Post by Kotaiso on Jul 3, 2007 14:08:19 GMT -5
((Originally posted by Noratul))
'Ello...
Where to begin? I was born on Draenor, in Shattrath about eighty years ago, not all that long in the lives of Draenei. My parents had high hopes for me, so they sent me off to the Anchorites of the Aldor as soon as I was of age. Among the Draenei of fourty-years ago, there could be no higher calling for a lady than to enter the Priesthood.
I never took to my studies. Too many things gnawed at my mind. When the instructors asked for faith, I asked for answers. I had too many questions they couldn't reply to with anything more concrete than "because" or "the Naaru are more wise than we know". Dissatisfaction led me to other kindred souls who couldn't accept the holy Light preached by the Priests and justification for our history. Power through faith...entirely too unreliable and corruptable for my taste. I became friends with other disgruntled Anchorites and together we began to delve into things the Aldor felt best not to touch.
*Noratul Sighs*
I doubt many of you know of the Auchenai, but you will. When the fighting with the Orcs grew serious, most of my friends banded together in the old catacombs of Auchindoun and began their doom cult in earnest. I was initiated for a while, but it was just power through faith by a different name. Instead of the...misdirections of the Naaru, they had obscure tomes of Eldritch lore and half-truths... I still carry around a little prayer book with me, filled with the dark things we knew and praised and raised in the crypts. Should the Shat'tar ever find it on me, I'd be in trouble.
Well, the Aldor didn't want to loose another Anchorite to the Auchenai, and they sensed by hesitancy. What do you do with a Priest who asks too many questions? You send them off to a Mage academy. I was offered a scholarship to the Mage academy of Farahlon. The way of the Mage is knowledge, understanding of how things work, and the aquisition of the prescence of mind to manipulate reality of fundamental levels. Power through knowledge instead of the half-truths and misdirections of my youth. It was perfect for me.
The next thirty years are a nightmare that has never truly ended. Shortly after I arrived, Gul'dan united the savage Orc hordes and began the conquest of Draenor in earnest. Shattrath fell within a year. My family was killed early on...we weren't on speaking terms after I withdrew from the Aldor. I survived through luck; Farahlon was out of the way and offered many places for the survivors of the genocide to hide. Then there was the sundering and the merciless reign of the Orc hunters never ceased. Attrition was brutal, the academy dissolved as we buried most of the students and nearly all of the instructors.
Then the Naaru came. Fiends in the shape of Light...
Know this. The Naaru are evil. They have manipulated my people into a war transcending all we are. By their promises, a hundred generations have lived in terror and by our faith in then thousands perished on Draenor.
The truth the Aldor and the Anchorites can't acknowledge, even to themselves, is that we are puppets, and the Naaru hold our strings. They have built the Draenei to be dependant, loyal, and strong. On Argus they selected our faith, only selecting those who would believe in Velen for salvation. On Draenor, they selected for strength, saving only those who proved themselves through forty years of Orcish tyranny, while forsaking those who openly turned from them in desperation. The thing held within Silvermoon, fueling the Horde with its wretched Blood Knights, is there of its own accord. The Naaru are playing the Horde and the Alliance, arming them and sending us off to die as cannon fodder in their great crusade against the demons.
It's all so clear now. I ruminated on this all those years in the Farahlon, the Netherstorm as it became after the sundering. Only the knowledge of true power gives me the courage to go on with this. The first night after the crash, in the daemoniac setting of the smoldering Exodar, the Dreamer spoke to me. It slumbers beneath the Earth, entombed and defeated but not vanquished. It knows. It knows of forces greater than the Naaru, for the phantoms of the holy Light pale in comparison. Great C'thun, I believe the people of this world call it, the Dreamer. It, and ones like it, will ultimately deliver us from the Naaru. I hold no illusions of the Dreamer's motives, I know it desires freedom, and its own objectives on this world...it doesn't wish to serve or protect me or mine. But, it exists, it will oppose the Naaru, and as it seeks to use me it gives me knowledge, and knowledge is power. The Dreamers are great, un-tapped might. Knowledge in them gives me the strength to face the Naaru, to use them as they seek to use me.
Draenor will be ours once more. The Orcs will pay for what they have done. the Blood Elves will suffer Tempest Keep. All those who stand by them shall burn in the cleansing flame. The Draenei will triumph, and we will claim a new destiny, one where we are not the toys of Eldritch, horrible nightmares in the guise of angels! The Dreamer gives me knowledge, and by that power I will make it so. C'thun fghtan! Ia! Ia!
'Ello...
Where to begin? I was born on Draenor, in Shattrath about eighty years ago, not all that long in the lives of Draenei. My parents had high hopes for me, so they sent me off to the Anchorites of the Aldor as soon as I was of age. Among the Draenei of fourty-years ago, there could be no higher calling for a lady than to enter the Priesthood.
I never took to my studies. Too many things gnawed at my mind. When the instructors asked for faith, I asked for answers. I had too many questions they couldn't reply to with anything more concrete than "because" or "the Naaru are more wise than we know". Dissatisfaction led me to other kindred souls who couldn't accept the holy Light preached by the Priests and justification for our history. Power through faith...entirely too unreliable and corruptable for my taste. I became friends with other disgruntled Anchorites and together we began to delve into things the Aldor felt best not to touch.
*Noratul Sighs*
I doubt many of you know of the Auchenai, but you will. When the fighting with the Orcs grew serious, most of my friends banded together in the old catacombs of Auchindoun and began their doom cult in earnest. I was initiated for a while, but it was just power through faith by a different name. Instead of the...misdirections of the Naaru, they had obscure tomes of Eldritch lore and half-truths... I still carry around a little prayer book with me, filled with the dark things we knew and praised and raised in the crypts. Should the Shat'tar ever find it on me, I'd be in trouble.
Well, the Aldor didn't want to loose another Anchorite to the Auchenai, and they sensed by hesitancy. What do you do with a Priest who asks too many questions? You send them off to a Mage academy. I was offered a scholarship to the Mage academy of Farahlon. The way of the Mage is knowledge, understanding of how things work, and the aquisition of the prescence of mind to manipulate reality of fundamental levels. Power through knowledge instead of the half-truths and misdirections of my youth. It was perfect for me.
The next thirty years are a nightmare that has never truly ended. Shortly after I arrived, Gul'dan united the savage Orc hordes and began the conquest of Draenor in earnest. Shattrath fell within a year. My family was killed early on...we weren't on speaking terms after I withdrew from the Aldor. I survived through luck; Farahlon was out of the way and offered many places for the survivors of the genocide to hide. Then there was the sundering and the merciless reign of the Orc hunters never ceased. Attrition was brutal, the academy dissolved as we buried most of the students and nearly all of the instructors.
Then the Naaru came. Fiends in the shape of Light...
Know this. The Naaru are evil. They have manipulated my people into a war transcending all we are. By their promises, a hundred generations have lived in terror and by our faith in then thousands perished on Draenor.
The truth the Aldor and the Anchorites can't acknowledge, even to themselves, is that we are puppets, and the Naaru hold our strings. They have built the Draenei to be dependant, loyal, and strong. On Argus they selected our faith, only selecting those who would believe in Velen for salvation. On Draenor, they selected for strength, saving only those who proved themselves through forty years of Orcish tyranny, while forsaking those who openly turned from them in desperation. The thing held within Silvermoon, fueling the Horde with its wretched Blood Knights, is there of its own accord. The Naaru are playing the Horde and the Alliance, arming them and sending us off to die as cannon fodder in their great crusade against the demons.
It's all so clear now. I ruminated on this all those years in the Farahlon, the Netherstorm as it became after the sundering. Only the knowledge of true power gives me the courage to go on with this. The first night after the crash, in the daemoniac setting of the smoldering Exodar, the Dreamer spoke to me. It slumbers beneath the Earth, entombed and defeated but not vanquished. It knows. It knows of forces greater than the Naaru, for the phantoms of the holy Light pale in comparison. Great C'thun, I believe the people of this world call it, the Dreamer. It, and ones like it, will ultimately deliver us from the Naaru. I hold no illusions of the Dreamer's motives, I know it desires freedom, and its own objectives on this world...it doesn't wish to serve or protect me or mine. But, it exists, it will oppose the Naaru, and as it seeks to use me it gives me knowledge, and knowledge is power. The Dreamers are great, un-tapped might. Knowledge in them gives me the strength to face the Naaru, to use them as they seek to use me.
Draenor will be ours once more. The Orcs will pay for what they have done. the Blood Elves will suffer Tempest Keep. All those who stand by them shall burn in the cleansing flame. The Draenei will triumph, and we will claim a new destiny, one where we are not the toys of Eldritch, horrible nightmares in the guise of angels! The Dreamer gives me knowledge, and by that power I will make it so. C'thun fghtan! Ia! Ia!
